The purge, at least that’s what my father called it. It was the single most defining moment in human history, and possibly our inevitable had finally come about. The year was 2045 when all of a sudden people stopped having babies, they didn’t stop having sex of course, that would never stop. But on a long enough timeline the survival rate always drops to zero. People aged and vanished, humanity wheezing and sputtering out it’s last years. Some called this the rapture, or the Apocalypse, I didnt care. All that mattered was that near everyone was either old or dead. I was part of the last human generation ever conceived, born in the winter of the purge. After us everyone lost their potency. At first everyone went about their normal lives, going to work, seeing relatives, and not really searching for a cure. The medical companies didnt want to spend money on such an “expendable resource.” as people aged and all those aged about them, nothing really seemed out of place. Within a 100 years 1 billion people died of old age, and in another 100 years another 1 or 2 billion. Such a steady pace, insidiously killing us. Now it is as if everyone up and left for vacation some place else, entire cities are empty. Grocery stores still fully stocked and skyscrapers still stood regally above the silence. I’ve walked the street in my youth with my father, playing as a kid should not recognizing the tragedy all about me. Now I hobble the streets with my grey and wispy beard. Im getting so old, and tired. (I hate this piece) 

He stared blankly into the dark abyssal plane of stars and celestial bodies with eyes tired, but full of bewilderment. black and purple rings where a constant sattilite about his eyes as if he just came out of a fight.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

”

- William Ernest Henry 

Ahem. 

You frighten me, o enemy,
Your presence makes it hard to breathe.

Puberty is hard enough
Without your creepy friends to slough
Off my gills, for there they rest,
A parasitic sausage-fest.

I shudder to think of the depravity
When ye have crowded my respiratory duplex,
For the biggest enters my oral cavity
And proceeds to change its sex.

My pride, your entitled actions stung,
I blame our Californian attitude,
For drinking free meals from the base of my tongue
Is something most snappers consider rude.

Have not you taught your ladies better conduct,
You pigment-deficient miscreants?
That is MY blood that she has sucked
I care not for her need of nutrients.

And should my organ atrophy
(I appreciate the thought)
but attaching yourself in its stead
Is no the justice I had sought.

I thank Potheidon every morning
For having a head unpolluted
Of your prethenth, mouth-adorning
Tho my thpeech organ my remain unthubthituted….
………..!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I couln’t resonate with her longing stare, but I played a game of eye tag with her. Glances here and there pretending the feeling was mutual. Why was I playing her game?, why did I build her up only to tear her down. Heat of the moment I told myself and thought nothing of it later. Her stares would only be met by my averted gaze. (to be continued)

Make a god bleed and he is longer god, blood will tarnish the ground and hungry wolves will come. Christ did bleed, and the wolves of man did come.

I had some good stuff on there

The wine would sway in their glasses at every awkward fidget. Voices reverberated in hushed tones all throughout the dining room. The deeply rich and smooth wood walls were colored by the contemporary art of the new age, but the service and the atmosphere resonated with the old. Too formal, too stuffy, I thought. The older businessmen in their far-too-expensive-suits wheezed their elderly laughs while the wives chuckled in compliance. I glanced at my date, clad in a suggestive azure dress that clung tight round her waist. And loose about her petite breasts. Her fiery hair tied loosely into a bun while her bangs still drooped about her golden eyes. Her skin smelled of a summers breeze, and her lips thin and graceful. She smiled weakly in the daunting atmosphere, her teeth gleaming off my tired eyes. At last the first entree came about, the waitress smiling. A bite sized dish lay neatly as a piece of art in the middle of a translucent plate. On the inside I groaned at the small but expensive dish, it was all worth it when I caught her soft gaze. Sweet as a flower and warm like an afternoon daze. Dinner was near speechless only faint smiles and quick glances. I liked it that way, the silent speech conveyed more emotion than any words or rhetoric ever could; I wondered if she felt the same.   (to be expanded upon)

He thought of how profound shadows were, their allegory hidden in the folds of regularity. He realized how shadows are always bigger than the person, or how they never leave your side. Much like the darkness in the hearts of men. He chuckled at the paradox of the sun and the shadows, of how even the things that are innocent create the evil in us. (to be edited, strong message/needs work)

His breath faded into the icy grip of winter as he stalked though the frozen wasteland. Wind howled through the thin trees and bit at his cheeks, to which their only response was to blush. Off past a field of iridescent snow a stick cracked. He stopped and cocked his head about, and observed his surroundings. “Steady your hand, loosen your breath” his fathers words reverberated in his ears. At last he caught glance of the majestic stag, muscles rippling in the early morning glow. It’s ears flapped twice as it looked about. Slowly he brought the butt of his gun to the meat of his shoulder, and gripped at the wood at his gun. Slowing his breath as he took aim, the deer’s oblivious nature both pleased him and upset him. The boy flexed through his leather jacket he made himself to brace for the inevitable explosion. Exhaling slowly he felt his finger squeeze, and a sound that matched a tree snapping in the wind followed. When the stags antlers scraped against the ice and snow the boy eased and rose to his feet. (to be finished/edited)